She forced that thought out of her head. She was going to have to climb over him whether she wanted to or not. She took a deep breath and leaned toward him. She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t look at him and began to move.
She prayed he wouldn’t wake up. She moved slowly, using her upper arms to support her weight so she wouldn’t bear down on him. Rose bit down on her lip until she tasted blood.
Unwillingly, she had to straddle his waist. Her weight pressed against him for a moment. She sucked in a harsh breath, waiting for him to move beneath her. When he didn’t, she felt sure enough to continue. She was just about to throw her other leg over him and touch the floor when her fear was confirmed. There was no warning except for the hand that grabbed her wrist and threatened to crush her bones.
She gasped in surprise and pain, eyes flying open. Simon looked up at her, his dark brown eyes glittering with malice. His fingernails dug into her flesh. He strengthened his hold and she gasped.
“If you wanted to be on top,” he said in a dark voice she didn’t like at all, “you could’ve just asked.”
Rose didn’t even get a chance to struggle. With a single toss of his arm, he threw her back over him and rolled over, pinning her to the bed. He grabbed her other wrist as she drew her hand to strike him and held it painfully over her head.
“I’m not letting you go,” he said, panting. The sheet had fallen away from him and he was naked, his hardness pressing against her leg. She stared at him with anger, with hatred.
He laughed. The sound of it made her feel cold. She tried to struggle against him, but he held her pinned down by his weight. He was heavy and solid on top of her.
“Let go of me,” she growled. The grip he held on her wrists was painful. She tried not to cry out in pain as he gripped harder. He forced her legs apart with his knee. His erection touched her inner thigh.
Rose felt the wolf awaken at Simon’s touch. It was something about his scent, his eyes that called to her.
“No,” she whispered, but not just to him. The desire was filling her again. The wolf wanted him and Rose was trapped once more.
Simon’s face nuzzled against the flesh of her exposed neck, prickly hairs of his beard stubble scratching her. He smelled feral and male. She was quickly aroused, the heat coursing through her entire body. She felt the wetness pool between her legs.
“No,” she said again. She lowered her head, closing off the access to her neck. She tried to clench her thighs together, but Simon’s presence kept her from doing so. His breath against her cheek and neck was inviting. But there was still an ounce of control within her. She would not let herself give into him again. She would not.
Even as the words rounded inside her head, Simon’s fierce kisses were trailing down her face. She let out a breath, tilted her head back without thinking. He buried his face in her neck, smelling the scent of her.
His hand ran along her naked side. He gripped her right breast and squeezed, painfully. Her nipple hardened against his palm and she moaned despite trying to resist.
It was getting more difficult for her to fight him. His cock pressed against her wetness, only the tip entering her. She moaned and squirmed beneath him. The wolf whimpered. She was ready.
Rose wasn’t and there was nothing she could do.
Simon pressed against her, sliding into her easily. She made a deep sound in her throat, a loud moan and lifted her hips to meet him. He let go of her breast and slipped his hand beneath her, gripping her ass tightly.
Her legs enfolded him, drawing him close. He held her wrist still, but soon released it to better grip her hips and pull her forward.
Rose allowed herself to let go. The wolf took over and there was nothing but desire, sex, release. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders. Simon groaned with the combination of pleasure and pain. It seemed to increase his stamina. He held her tighter, thrust in harder.
Before long, she was moaning in pleasure, gritting her teeth against the pain of his strong thrusts. She threw back her head and Simon bit down on the flesh of her neck. The pain was exhilarating. The wolf loved it.
She smelled blood. He had drawn it, his tongue lapping at the wound he had made. He marked her. Rose only had a moment to register what it meant before the pleasure consumed her again.
She lifted her arms above her head, feeling the wall, searching for something to hold. She soon found the coldness of the pipe and her hands encircled it. It allowed her enough leverage to lift herself to him. Her arms strained, pulling.
Rose neared her climax. She threw her head back, working with his rhythm. He released his hold on her ass, his hands moving elsewhere. She didn’t care. She was close.
She felt it collect in the center of her body, spreading downward and out. She bit down on her lip and tasted blood. The pleasure went through her in waves, then finally exploded. She cried out, unable to contain it any more. She screamed, throwing her head back and closing her eyes. Simon continued to pump into her.
She shuddered, her fingers locked around the metal pipe above her. She felt she could not let go. She held on until Simon was finished, soon after her release. He groaned loudly, thrust into her one final time.
Beneath him, Rose panted, spent from the sex. Simon remained poised. Blood dripped from his lip and she knew from its scent that it was her own. She stared at him, feeling him pulse within her. Slowly, she began to let her fingers relax, moving them from the pipe.
In one quick motion, Simon’s hand encircled one wrist, holding her there. Surprised and somewhat disoriented, Rose stared up at him. A slow, sadistic smile spread across his blood-stained lips. She shuddered again, but it wasn’t from the orgasm aftershocks.
In his left hand, something metal glinted in the shadows. It took a moment before she realized what it was, but it was already too late. The cold metal had already circled her wrist. The overlaying chain clanked against the pipe.
With her free hand, she tried to claw him, but he was much faster. He grabbed her hand, drawing it toward the other. The metal bracelet encircled her wrist, cold and unyielding.
Handcuffed to the pipe, she had very little ability to move. Her arms strained above her head. Her only weapon now was her legs, and kicking did little good. Simon continued to hold her down. He licked her blood from his lips. His tongue rested for a moment between his teeth and he closed his eyes, as if savoring the taste.
“You bastard.” The anger returned. The wolf was gone once again. Rose wished she could disappear as well, but she had no such luck. She stared up at him heatedly. Simon continued to grin.
There was nothing she could do.
Simon pulled away from her and slipped out of the bed. Rose watched him as well as she could, her head having limited mobility. He grabbed for his clothes. Something jingled in his jeans pocket. Keys.
He slipped on the jeans and stood.
“Goddamn you,” she growled.
He half-turned and smirked at her. He wiped the rest of the blood away from his mouth. He turned on the light above them and Rose flinched. It burned her eyes, and she squinted to adjust quickly. Once she could see again, she found herself staring at Simon.
A light sheen of sweat covered his upper body, glistening off his muscled arms and torso. A remnant of the wolf must’ve still remained, because she felt another hint of desire. Immediately, she shoved it away, disgusted to find him attractive.
“Goddamn you,” she said again. “Goddamn you, Simon.”
He laughed again and sat in the rickety chair, turning it to face her. “You’ve said that, already. Was I that good, that you can’t form any other sentence?”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“So soon? You really are an animal. Just like I imagined.”
She pulled against the handcuffs. The metal chain clanked against the pipes. She strained as she pulled, but even with her strength there was no resistance. She let go, falling back against the bed.
Simon watched her, mirth in his eyes, his smirk still plas
tered on his face. They both knew she was in a vulnerable spot. There wasn’t much she could do. She was at his mercy.
“Don’t even think about it,” she warned, trying to make her voice fearsome. It trembled and did little to inspire fear. “Don’t come near me.”
“Or you’ll do what?” he asked. He lifted an eyebrow. “Doesn’t look like you can do much with your legs wide open and your arms handcuffed.”
She felt a furious blush creep into her face. Tears once again burned in her eyes. They fell down her cheek, wet and uncomfortable. It was humiliating.
“You’re in a pretty compromised position,” he said. “Never in a million years did I ever expect to have you here, tied up, at my mercy, and in…heat.” He chuckled low in his throat. “I think I’ll use it to my advantage.”
Simon continued to smirk at her and she didn’t need to guess what was going on in his mind. He seemed rested now and ready to go again, the bulge in his jeans a giveaway to his desire. He stood up and crossed the floor. Rose did not remove her eyes from him. She tried to shake her head and she winced in pain. The bite-mark was still fresh, painful.
“No, not again, please,” she pleaded.
But Simon was already undoing the fastener of his jeans and the wolf lifted her head once more, in preparation for another mating.
There was nothing Rose could do.
* * *
“Where are we going?” Glen asked. He sat up in the passenger seat beside Jason and stared out at the unfamiliar stretch of road. It was night and the Camaro’s headlights cut through the shadows.
Beside him, Jason was silent. He flexed his hands on the steering wheel. Glen studied him, waiting for an answer. When he didn’t give one, he spoke again.
“Where are we going, Jason? This isn’t the way to the PRDI.”
“We’re not going to the PRDI,” he answered. They were coming up on a stop sign and he slowed the car to a crawl, barely pausing.
“I gathered that. Where are we going?”
He was silent for a moment, just concentrating on his driving. He seemed reluctant to tell him anything, but Glen knew he would crack. He always did. Glen waited patiently, turning his attention away from Jason to watch the road stretch on.
“I got a strange feeling,” Jason finally said. “Something tells me we shouldn’t go to the PRDI. We need to go this way.”
Glen lifted an eyebrow and studied him for a moment in the darkness. Jason did not look in his direction, preferring to keep his eyes on the road. Glen wondered if he was afraid his eyes might reveal something.
“Trusting the feelings for once?”
“Something tells me I should, yeah.” It seemed he was going to say something more but didn’t. Glen waited a moment, but he didn’t go on.
“I know this is hard for you. It’s hard for all of us,” Glen began. He paused just long enough to let out a breath. “I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: I am really sorry I didn’t believe you about Simon—”
“Forget it,” Jason cut him off shortly. He glanced at him momentarily, his blue eyes shining, reflecting light from the headlights of a passing car. “There’s nothing we need to say about that any more.”
“I know,” Glen said, hurriedly. “I only brought it up because I don’t want something happening.”
“I know.”
“And because Simon’s alive, you might do something rash—”
“And stupid?” Again Jason shot him a look. “That was three years ago, Glen. Things have changed.”
“But not you. I know you, Jason. You’ve been obsessing over Simon all this time. Your anger and hatred toward him has not changed. You still want to find him. You still want to kill him.”
“He has Rose again,” Jason said, as if Glen’s words had no meaning. It frustrated him but Glen fell silent.
“I have changed, Glen. If I were the same, I would be right after him. I would be out there, searching for him, kicking his ass—”
“And how is that different?”
Again, Jason ignored him. “Instead, I am calmer. I have patience. I know we will find him. I have no doubt about that, and when we do find him, I’m going to kill him. That hasn’t changed.”
“You do realize it could be days before we find him. It might be too late for Rose.”
“Simon won’t kill her,” Jason said. Glen was surprised to find he did sound calm. This was not the headstrong, gung-ho Jason he had spoken to earlier in the week. Something was different, changed. Glen furrowed his brows together.
“He won’t kill her,” Jason repeated. “He’ll keep her alive either as bait or for…something else.” The last part stuck in his throat. Glen caught a hint of Jason’s old self.
“We’re following your gut instinct.” Glen tried to gain some insight. “Does it have anything to do with Simon?”
“Possibly,” Jason said. “I don’t know.”
Glen sighed and settled back into his seat. “Well, you’re off to a good start in learning about your abilities.”
“Am I?” Jason chuckled just a bit. “We’ll see about that when we get to where we’re going.”
“Do you know where that is?”
“Maybe,” he said. He gunned the engine, speeding quickly down the road. Glen was afraid to ask what he meant.
It was just part of the mystery surrounding the new Jason. He would have to wait to find out.
Chapter Thirteen
It took an hour’s more searching before Claire found any mention of a Simon Conner, but the information was dated, old. Once more feeling despondent, she withdrew from the computer screen and rubbed her eyes. It was a tired search. Their enemy did not exist.
It was time for another break. Claire left the study, opening the door slowly and softly. It had grown dark outside and only one light cast its glow around the living room. Ugly yellow shadows danced on the wall around her.
“Hello?” she called, tentatively. No one answered. She crossed the floor, pausing to look down at the couch. A throw blanket was wrinkled, disturbed where someone—probably Rebel—had fallen asleep. The room was empty save for her.
Voices drifted from outside, through the broken door leading to the patio. Furrowing her brow, Claire wandered toward the door to see where they had all gone. She paused in the doorway, standing where a pile of broken glass once lay.
She spotted Cheyenne first, a tawny-colored wolf, standing at the top of the hill. The light from the waning moon cast a surreal glow around her, making her fur lighter, more silver than blonde. She looked beautiful. Claire walked forward and stood near the railing to get a better look.
Below her, farther down the hill, was a gray wolf Claire immediately recognized as Rebel, running toward Cheyenne. Once he reached her, he stopped and looked around. Then both wolves were gone, disappearing behind the crest of the hill.
“Wait!” It was Davis, still in human form, at the bottom of the hill. He cupped his hands around his mouth to call, but it was no use. They were gone.
He stood there for a moment as if debating whether he should follow. Claire watched as he finally turned and began to walk back to the cabin. He spotted her standing on the patio and he stopped for a split second, surprised to see her there.
She said nothing, waiting for him to reach her before she said a word. He climbed up the steps and shook his head.
“They needed to let off a little steam,” he explained. “So, they decided to go for a run. I didn’t want them to go far, but they don’t listen.” He chuckled, but it sounded forced. He didn’t look at her.
“Animal instinct,” Claire said. She smiled, but it was also forced. “Can’t really talk much sense into that.”
“Yeah.”
“You want to run with them,” she said.
A pained look came over his face and he looked reverently toward the hill. He sighed. “Yes, I would like to, one day.”
“I’m sorry.”
Davis nodded then turned back toward her. “Not your fault I
can’t shift.”
“Davis, don’t—”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, shaking his head. The topic was dropped, thankfully and he segued easily into the next. “Did you find anything?”
“No.” She moved away from him a few steps and turned to look toward the horizon. Stars dotted the sky. She could pick out a few constellations. The Big Dipper was bright. She stared at it as she spoke. “No, I didn’t find anything. The only Simon Conner that shows up in any search died about thirteen years ago.”
“Hmm,” Davis said, thoughtfully. Claire turned away from the Big Dipper and stared at him.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. He stepped away from her and walked through the broken door. Claire blinked a few times, glanced back toward the fields once, then followed him.
“It doesn’t sound like nothing. What were you thinking?”
“It just sounded a bit familiar is all, but it’s nothing.”
“Tell me.”
Davis sighed as he plopped down on the couch. He pushed aside the blanket, bunching it behind him for extra comfort and support. Claire leaned against the armchair, balancing on the arm of it.
“It’s just something Glen said once, back when—” He cut himself off.
“Go on.”
“Back when we were searching for Simon before, the only thing that came up was a newspaper article or something about a Simon Conner dying—”
“In a fire?”
Davis nodded.
“That’s what I found. It was a newspaper article, something about a fire, the family dying.”
“Really?” He sounded incredulous. He stared at her, confused. “You don’t think—”
“I don’t know what to think,” Claire admitted. “Maybe it means something.” Her voice began to trail off as she got distracted by her own thoughts. She slid off the armchair and started for the study.
Hunter's Moon Page 12